


I Could Love You

by j_gabrielle



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:00:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1789744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Complete and utter madness." </i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I don't think we should stop though." Ethan murmurs against the rushing of the wind.</i>
</p><p>[a.k.a. the AU nobody asked for]</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Could Love You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic does not make any sense. Probably.

Vanessa slides in to the seat next to him, stealing the apple from his tray. "So. The new boy. He's quite dishy isn't he?" She says without preamble, smirking.

Ethan sighs, snatching it back from his friend. Vanessa raises an eyebrow, sharp eyes piercing as they glint knowingly at him. "I didn't notice." He replies, digging his fork into the glob of mash sitting solidly on the corner of his plate.

From the corner of his eye, he sees the way the new transfer student looks his way and he ducks his head lower. He feels Vanessa shift beside him, and he turns to frown at her. "Stop it. You know I am not ready." 

"You know you can't keep using that excuse forever, right?"

Ethan pushes himself away from the table, standing. Picking up his tray, he tosses the apple back to Vanessa. "Take it. 'M not hungry."

The soft rustling of her skirts follows him as he exits the cafeteria. He balls his hands into fists, hiding them in his coat pockets. Turning into an empty classroom, he unlatches the window, climbing out onto the fire escape.

"I didn't mean it." Her voice carries out from inside. Ethan breathes in deeply. It is as close as he will get to an apology from Vanessa. Pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, he offers it to her, plucking one out and lighting it for himself.

Vanessa climbs into the space on the sill, tucking her long legs beneath her. Her long dark hair sits in a messy topknot on her head, eyes heavily lined with kohl. She curves her lips, smiling as Ethan inhales, tilting his head up to watch the dark grey skies above.

Closing his eyes, he reminds himself that Vanessa is and was the only one person in this whole school that did not see him as the 'Weird Yank'.

 

"Wanna come over later? Victor's bringing Proteus." 

Vanessa skips into step next to him, her lithe form falling into the rhythm of his footfalls. Proteus coming over meant booze and hookah. He knows that Vanessa's parents were away for the week, so staying over at hers won't be a problem. He doesn't have anyone waiting in the one room flat he keeps above the bakers' anyway.

"Yeah sure. Why not." He shrugs, hefting his bag on his shoulder. The bell rings, and he barely sends her off with a parting nod before she is swallowed up in the swell of students.

Running a hand through his own dark brown hair, he heads to his next class.

Ethan takes a seat in the back corner of the class, near the windows. It's History, so he flips out his notebook and begins to doodle. No point paying attention to something he already knows.

"Mind if I sit here?" 

He looks up, breath catching in his throat when he sees the smiling face of the transfer student standing over him, indicating at the table next to him.

"Yeah." Is all he manages to muster. The boy inclines his head, taking the seat. 

"Thanks."

"You're... Welcome."

"Where are you from?" The boy asks, brown eyes curious.

"America. You?"

"I... My family travels a lot."

Ethan's interest piques at the vague answer he receives. "Oh? Tell me more."

The boy laughs, smiling brightly. "I think I've answered this question 10 times already. Okay. So, I was born in England, but I was raised all over. I have lived in parts of Europe, parts of China and in Australia. I spent the last two years in Kuching; which is a city in Sarawak, which is a state in Malaysia. And I spent the year before that in Delhi, India. Does that satisfy your curiosity, person-whose-name-I-know-not?"

Ethan startles, feeling a rush of embarrassment. "Ah. Sorry. My name's Ethan." He holds his hand out.

The boy looks at his hand, taking it and gripping tightly. "Mine's Dorian."

Ethan blinks at smile on Dorian's lips. Looking down at their clasped hands, he feels a surge of emotions rising in him. The tingle of their shared skin radiates through him, evoking a swirl of butterflies in his belly and star bursts of happiness that he thought he would never feel again in this lifetime. Smiling back himself, he says, "Hello Dorian."

* * *

They take the first bus that pulls up at the stop. Ethan shoots a quick text to Vanessa, telling her that he won't be joining her, Victor and Victor's overly devoted boyfriend.

"Where are we going?" Dorian asks, lips close to his ear. They take the seats in the back of the bus.

"I don't know." He answers truthfully. Turning his head, he finds himself brushing his nose against Dorian's. "Is that okay?"

Dorian smiles, the fluttering shadows of his eyelashes beat against his cheekbones. "I'll go where you go."

Ethan looks away first, but he does not flinch when Dorian slips his thin hands into his. Leaning back against the bus seats, he looks out the windows, watching the buildings blur from bricks and concrete into glass and steel.

"Tell me more about yourself." He says suddenly, looking over at where Dorian has laid his head against his shoulder. "Tell me."

Dorian blinks, a slow syrupy movement saccharine in the moment Ethan watches the every shift of his facial expression. The long shadows of the sun dapple over them as Dorian begins to speak. Soon, he asks for the same in return and Ethan cannot help but be drawn into the heavy tides of moments that swim over him. 

He talks about his mother, the father who loves him too much but has never shown him in the ways he needed him to. He whispers about the girl he wanted to marry, the one who left him for plateaus he cannot follow. They talk even as the street lamps turn on, as the bus turns into the heart of the city.

"Let's stop here." Dorian says softly. Holding him tightly, they exit the bus, skipping onto the pavement with their hands still joined. The crowd moves past them; every stranger searching for their destinations.

They wander down the streets, suckling warmth from the light of the shop fronts and their cold, lifelessly designs. Their path opens onto the river side. Grinning, Ethan tightens his hold on Dorian's hand. 

"Come on!" He cries, dragging him along as they rush for the boats. 

Dorian laughs, and the sound cuts through the evening chill. They make one of the boats just as it begins to pull away from the shore. Ethan passes a few notes for the fare, guiding Dorian to the prow.

"You're crazy!" Dorian says breathlessly, eyes bright and cheeks flush from the exertion. 

"I guess I am." Ethan chuckles, slipping his arm around Dorian's waist. 

"I barely know you... We've only just met." Dorian swallows as the wind begins to whip around them. "So what is this feeling that you're making me feel?"

Ethan takes one of Dorian's hand not tangles in his lapels, bringing it to his cheek. Holding it there, he tilts his head, pressing kisses to delicate wrist. "So I'm not crazy then? I'm not the only one who feels this way?"

Dorian holds his gaze, shuffling close as the pass the city scape on each river bank. He lines their bodies together, sliding his hands to rest on Ethan's nape. In return, Ethan wraps his arms around his slim waist.

He lets himself be guided, slotted into place. Dorian angles himself close until they share each breath in unison. 

"Let's be mad men together. I have no idea why, or what this is. Only that I don't want this to end."

Ethan closes his eyes, closing the last precious millimetres to mould their lips together. Dorian responds beautifully, arching against him as the boat passes under a bridge. Dorian tastes like apples and wine gums. Kissing him feels like reaching the finishing line after a marathon; it feels like coming home.

"This is madness." Ethan breaths, panting when they part for air. The cold winds bite numbly into his skin. Dorian's dark eyes flutter open, glazed. Ethan sighs, falling back for another kiss.

"Complete and utter madness." Dorian agrees when they break for another desperate claim for oxygen. Ethan pulls him closer, leaning down to bury his face in the juncture of his neck, kissing just above his shirt collar.

"I don't think we should stop though." Ethan murmurs against the rushing of the wind.

Dorian's laughter bubbles through them, happy and bright in the swimming colours of the city and the night.

* * *

Ethan drapes himself over Dorian, rocking their bodies slow and sweet in tandem to the beat of their hearts.

The bed is a mess; remnant of a battle unknown. Ethan is sure that he will be hearing from his next door neighbours in the morning, but for now his entire world is focused into the way Dorian tightens and clenches around him as he comes once more.

Dorian grips the bedsheets weakly, head tilted and jaw slack, panting. Ethan reaches over to slip their hands together, biting into the flesh of Dorian's shoulder. Thrusting once, twice, he shudders as he comes, moaning softly.

"I don't think I will be able to walk tomorrow." Dorian huffs when his climax finally abates, turning his head, seeking Ethan's lips. "How are you..."

"I just find you incredibly hot." 

Dorian smiles, wriggling his bottom. Ethan pulls out gently, gingerly pulling the condom off his cock and tying it. Throwing it vaguely at the direction of his bin, he drags the sheets over their bodies. "Stay?" He whispers as he folds himself against Dorian's back.

"Where else would I go?" He hears as reply. Closing his eyes, he lets himself be enveloped in the strange cocktail of emotions.

 

 


End file.
